All He Wanted
by esthero-lil'-wikked
Summary: was comfort. He's suffered all his life, abuse, neglect. all he wanted was comfort, and all he got, was nothing. WARNING: contains mentions of abuse and rape. also contains suicide. you've been warned


All he wanted was comfort. All he got was neglect, abuse, _torture_.

He can't recall the first time it happened, it's all he can remember. His cupboard was his sanctuary. His uncle couldn't fit in there, no, only harry could, although that didn't stop Vernon from throwing him in there as punishment. Still, he preferred that to what he had to do outside of his cupboard. Housework was loaded upon him, more than it was possible for his young, weak, broken body to complete. Incomplete housework though, was not an option. If work wasn't finished before Vernon got home, there was hell to pay. He can remember the first time his uncle starved him, he was 3 years old, and already he'd gone 2 days without food. He was simply too weak from hunger to complete all the chores he'd been given, and that night, was the first night Vernon beat him bloody. By the end of it, harry had various broken bones, more bruises that he could count, and welts all down his back, from Vernon's belt. That night was the first of many. It became habit for Vernon to whip him. He took it, beared the pain, because he didn't know better. How could he? He was a _freak_, and according to his relatives, the freakishness needed to be beaten out of him, and way possible. It didn't mater to him that he didn't know his name until his 8th birthday, when Ms Figg told him. It didn't matter that he hadn't heard his voice in over 3 years, that it was completely gone from screaming, crying, _pleading_ with his uncle. Anything to make him stop, to make the pain stop.

All that didn't matter, ever since the first time _that_ happened. The first time his uncle forced him into Dudley's second room, ordered him to strip, and raped him. That was when harry died inside. He was a shell, he was alive, but he wasn't really living. He cleaned, cooked, tidied, anything his relatives told him to do, all without complaint, because he'd finally stopped trying. No one believed him, when he tried to tell people. He told his teachers, but they had ignored him, like well trained soldiers in the war Vernon seemed to be waging against him.

He though it would change when he got to Hogwarts. Finally, he could be safe. Or so he thought. Unfortunately for him, that didn't happen. He was ridiculed as soon as he got to the school, he was small, scrawny, _pathetic. He _was supposed to save them? Not likely, they said. He was hated by all, yet again ignored by the teachers. He eventually found a friend in Neville. Poor Neville, also tormented relentlessly by his peers, called a squib, or a loser. He thought it would be better now he had a friend. It wasn't. Things started happening, Quirrel was acting mad, Snape hated his guts, McGonagall, the 'fairest professor in school' seemed to instantly become against him, taking house points for the smallest of things, the most ridiculous of things, like Snape did with any and all Gryffindors. The first time he had to see Madam Pomfrey, he thought he could tell her, that she could help him get away from his relatives. She too was against him. Even with all the evidence, the scars from his beatings, she ignored him. She had proof of the abuse he had suffered, and still, she did nothing.

When third year came, he came back, with hundreds more bruises, cuts and scars. At least one thing never changed, he supposed, he just wished it was something happier, that he had something he could count on to make him smile. When he found out about Sirius Black. How the man wanted to kill him, he was happy, for the first time in his life, he was truly happy. Maybe, just maybe, Sirius would succeed. He would put him out of his misery. Turns out, it wasn't what it seemed at all. Sirius wanted to be a family, to _help_. But it didn't matter to harry. He didn't need family, he needed salvation. And yet, Sirius seemed adamant he was going to be there for him. It gave him enough to carry on, for just a little while longer. Things inside harry started to awaken, the light in his eyes started to slowly come back, after years of dullness, he could finally see the light in the proverbial tunnel. He started to hope.

It all changed when he was sent back to his relatives. He received no warm welcome, no warm hugs. No, he received a beating, longer than usual, and the now very usual rape. It was surprisingly easy for him to fall back into the habits and routines his 'family' expected of him. He did chores, he didn't complain, he took his beatings, all in silence, like it had been for the past 8 years. Silence. He tried writing to Sirius, but all he got back was a short sentence, telling him it was too dangerous to write, that owl post was easily traced, and Sirius couldn't afford to be found if he ever wanted his freedom. It was that moment that he broke completely once more. He small pieces of his heart that had started to put themselves back together had broken apart once more, splintered under the force of the blow Sirius had unknowingly hit him with.

Eventually it all became too much for him, the pain, the tears, the abuse, he wanted it all to stop. He wanted everything to just stop, to stop the world, so that he didn't have to live in it any more. He tried drinking the disinfectant he found in the garage, but uncle Vernon found him, and proceeded to beat him for his 'selfishness'. It was only the fact that they were outside that stopped Vernon from raping him once more. From killing the boy where he lay, whimpering, broken and bloody on the floor.

Later that night, he managed to sneak out of his cupboard, to send a letter, one last letter. He poured himself into that letter, the small pieces of his soul leaving him, transforming the words on the page, twisting them into the sorrowful, yet relieved feelings of the boy writing them. It was that letter, that was his suicide note. He wept as he wrote, silently as always, mourning his lack of loved ones, grieving over the fact that he only had one goodbye to write. He sent the letter with Hedwig, a parting gift from Sirius. He wished he hadn't spent the money on her, but at least she had one journey to make, before he left her.

It was after he sent the letter, that he prepared himself. He got the knife from the kitchen, and stabbed himself, though the spot where the last pieces of his heart resided. His last thought were that of the note he had just written. The note, explaining how all he'd wanted was a friend, someone who would help him. All he had wanted was comfort, and that was the one thing he was denied.


End file.
